Tag Archives: commentary

Last month, I wrote about how my anime journey began. My point then was to show how anime is a conscious choice of visual entertainment for me, rather than a product of childhood association, as with the case with others, anime hence forming a part of self-identity or a nostalgic sanctuary of dreams and innocence. Today, I attempt to evaluate the general stance of anime as an objectively more attractive choice among all story-telling mediums through a cross-cultural comparison across different types of TV series and dramas (excluding written fiction and movies, story-telling mediums that share lesser similarities with anime.) Through this, I hope to highlight how different anime is from its contemporaries, but also explain why and how anime may not be for everybody.

*Disclaimer: This post is mostly based on 80% personal experience and opinion, and 20% research. What is written is, to the best of my ability, knowledge, and experience, objectively representative of their respective genres. Please be aware that there may be exceptions.*

I am shackled to this aspect of story-telling called ‘plot unpredictability’. The way it throws me in a loop and delivers yet another conclusion that is almost entirely unpredictable and unexpected thrills me to no end. Caught up in the adrenaline of the moment as my stomach drops, I throw away all inhibitions, all objectivity, and all logic, and I just let the excitement consume me whole.

I become but a slave to the story, as the control over my own evaluative, otherwise relatively discerning mind, slips from my fingers, dropping to the ground below with a clumsy ‘splat’.

Charlotte was that roller coaster, and its major plot twist was that split second you hover before you plunge down into the darkness, the words which had started to form in your mind dissolving into sheer exhilaration, a blinding flash of white.

If there is anything that can be argued to exist in all entertainment, that would be the concept of strength. Viewers and creators alike are so enamoured with this notion of power that it is given all sorts of twists. A cornerstone of the action genre is multiple battles of strength between protagonists and antagonists, and these occupy the climaxes of the story. Strength here is usually portrayed as a pure manifestation of physical strength of good triumphs over evil.

“Animals naturally form packs. Carnivores form social hierarchies within their packs. Those that fail to become alphas harbor the burden of failure until they die. I’m sure the herbivores feel guilt as they sacrifice their comrades to evade their predators and live on.”

Hikigaya Hachiman, Episode 2

The social hierarchy is a curious thing. It represents a natural form of order whenever a cluster of individuals is brought together to govern and live in the same place. It is certainly not confined to the teenage age group, though it is more prevalent and holds more invisible authority over those more emotionally susceptible to concepts like conformance, the ‘norm’, and the ability to ‘fit in’. Even as we grow beyond childish, unjustifiable social alliances then that bedeviled our teenage existence, and we laugh, adulthood brings certain realities and societal expectations that are merely a macro-effect of what we experience in school. Except that it looms over us like a dark cloud we try desperately to ignore as we go about doing ‘adult’ things like finding a job, trying not to get scolded by your boss and paying your bills. We feel strangled as a prior life of undulations as we knew it, be it grey or rose-tinted, evens out into a monotonous never-ending straight line. Even if we know that we can be our own person – which were the cornerstones of concerns during our younger years – we are restricted by duties and responsibilities.

Greetings people! Welcome to a series of posts that is based off the anime known as Yahari Ore No Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru, also known as My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU. SNAFU offers a rich, realistic, and thought provoking social commentary into school life which many identify with including me. Hence, I thought that it would be apt to share the many life lessons that one can reap just from a single episode of SNAFU, and my personal thoughts on these. Minor spoilers ahead!

Shirou Emiya has always been an enigma of a character to me. Scathingly reduced to a lovelorn and overtly idealistic two-dimensional fool in Fate Stay Night (Studio Deen’s version), his blandness as a main character has left a stark impression on my mind, like an ugly scar tainting what was otherwise a highly enjoyable anime-watching experience. As such, I have always been quick to criticise and denounce the hype and fame surrounding that series. In fact, the only way for me to rationalise said fervour was to attribute it to overwhelming fan support for Saber and a well told romantic story with a female lead of a novel archetype. Never has it crossed my mind that Shirou Emiya would have anything to do with any positive description.

Then Unlimited Blade Works arrived at my doorstep and I found myself debunking all prior judgment about Shirou being as interesting as a blank slate. Credit should probably given to the Unlimited Blade Works route, which either (1) delved more into the interesting aspects of the Fate Stay Night story i.e. the concept of heroism and how ideals that transcend the person clash with one’s sense of self; or (2) was simply adapted more masterfully. In any event, Shirou’s ideals, which gave the misleading impression in previous series of laughable naivety, are fleshed out here. They actually start to make sense.

However, that does not mean that they are in any way admirable. In fact, my position is that they are a dangerous set of ideals which if adopted without qualification, have profound effects beyond what series has explored. In this post, I will elaborate on my position by expounding on the reasons mentioned by the other characters, and add in my two cents’ worth:

Archer i.e. Heroic Spirit Emiya

Being the soul incarnate of Emiya in a parallel world, Archer is arguably the best placed to give criticism with the benefit of hindsight to the ‘rightness’ or Shirou’s cause of action. After all, he is the one who had lived through that ideal and ultimately ended up with the destiny of fruitless eternal reincarnation. (The counter-argument here would be that it is precisely because they are essentially the ‘same souls’ that any attempt to judge themselves through the eyes of their alter ego is a meaningless endeavour due to the inherently skewed lens they would cast upon themselves in doing so. Yet since they exist in parallel this isn’t as strong a counter as it would have been.)

When Archer and Shirou are set up in opposition to each other in the action scenes symbolising the clash of ideals (or swords), we can see how diametrically opposed they actually are. In that fight, Archer represents a disillusioned Shirou, sticking to his ideals and living by them staunchly, only to discover the impossibility of his goal and the fact that it has instead culminated in an outcome which he had initially sought to prevent. Hence, Archer’s words hit home when he accuses Shirou of being hypocritical in copying the ideals of a man he had idolised and looked up to and living solely to achieve those ideals. Notwithstanding the possibility that ‘saving everyone’ and ‘making everybody happy’ is an admirable goal in itself, the unqualified nature of such a goal smacks of ludicrity and the product of unworldliness. To Archer, he is doing Shirou a favour by killing him, so that he does not in future live out an existence of shame, self-blame, and despair as he do. In essence, Archer is looking to ending Shirou’s life as a form of true salvation.

Shirou acknowledges all that Archer has said and admits that he is hypocritical adopting another person’s wish. And yet, this wish of wanting to help others isn’t any less real. ‘Even if that life is like a machine; even if that life is dripping in hypocrisy’, he wants to carry out his ideals, simply because they aren’t wrong.

One cannot doubt that Shirou’s way of justifying his goals as a counter to Archer’s conclusion is pretty typical of Japanese entertainment and the positive messages it seeks to uphold and send to its viewers. By condemning his self”s desires and sense of identity to nothingness, he puts the world and an ideal above everything else – that is self-sacrifice of a truly highest level. Yet, herein lies the danger. By carrying out his goals of a better world, Shirou ultimately has to choose sides – that means killing people that are ‘wrong’ and ‘bad’, or have committed ‘crimes’. But who is Shirou to judge? Ultimately, living out his ideal means that he gets to play God, and in basing such decisions based on his personal set of morals and his sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, he is in fact condemning the people whose ideals do not agree with him.

However, detractors from this position will argue that there isn’t much of a contradiction when after all, most societies’ and/or people’s senses of morality are relatively consistent. Despite being of different race, religion and nationality, we can all agree that cold-blooded murder and rape is bad, for example. Yet, throw in situations akin to Death Parade’s episodic customersinto the mix, and the moral dilemma surfaces. In fact, even in seemingly clear cut cases, such dilemmas do exist. As a judge of right and wrong, when the circumstances of a ‘crime’ are made known, the lines of morality becomes increasingly blurred.

Archer may have turned out to be more twisted and cynical than he should have been, but his concerns are valid. That Shirou may ultimately turn out to kill more people than he saves, and that knowledge may potentially destroy him given the way he was so determined to discard his self to serve as a hero of justice, appears to be Archer’s primary concern. Shirou’s declaration that he, effectively, doesn’t mind doing that, doesn’t actually help. And this will only be more clear as we move on to the other characters.

Tohsaka Rin

Rin’s objection to Shirou’s ideals as we see in the earlier parts of Fate stem from more of a concern for his well-being, which is understandable as her role as Shirou’s partner in battle and in life (at least in this route). Even if she appears to come to terms with Shirou’s stubbornness and change her stance to support him and the way he chooses to live his life at the end of the series, it is highly understandable as she loves him. However, it is through Rin’s objections where Shirou’s danger of losing his self becomes more pronounced. Shirou’s selflessness not only destroys himself, but also the people who love him and who care for him. Is that, ironically, a display of true selfishness akin to unmerited suicide? Rin’s choice in the end ultimately also means her destruction, and she clearly knows that.

Gilgamesh

Gilgamesh has a very interesting take on Shirou’s quest to be a hero of justice. His attitude towards humanity, whom he views – mostly – as mere mongrels with an inherent darkness which they refuse to admit and embrace, may come across as ridiculously exaggerated and classically villainous. And yet, there is some truth to be gleaned from his opinions, however annoying his pompousness and overpowering sense of superiority may seem to some.

From his perspective, Shirou aims to achieve equality through the moral compass, by saving all that supposedly deserves to be saved and condemning the rest who don’t. To him, Shirou is a weakling who cannot acknowledge the fact that darkness exists in humanity and the world, and cannot possibly be eradicated. In many ways, Gilgamesh’s label that ‘humanity is the name of an animal who cannot find joy in life without sacrifice’ is not entirely sweeping, though only in that joy is only joy when looked in contrast to sacrifice. Hence, it is the same with the concept of equality. Because people will never truly be equal, it is impossible to truly judge a person (the Emperor of Britaania of Code Geass and the core theme of Death Parade come to mind) and hence to distinguish between one whom he ought to save and one he should not.

Emiya Kiritsugu

Kiritsugu’s weariness of the world and his struggles are actually more aptly mirrored by Archer than Shirou. His actions of repeated killing for an ideal that has no doubt become twisted also bears more resemblance to what Archer has grown to become and realise after time. Yet, Kiritsugu also represents a cross between Archer and Shirou. By logically taking a utilitarian approach and viewing the value of human lives by mere numbers, he chooses to destroy a few to save all, as seen in his unwavering single-minded pursuit of the Holy Grail in the previous war by all means possible and destruction of all obstructions in his path. Kiritsugu however, knows the weakness of the ideal he pursues, and ultimately seeks salvation in the form of saving a single life in the fire of destruction he indirectly caused. We see the logical, merciless facade of his collapse as he sees Shirou in the fire. In a way, Kiritsugu is more humane than Shirou as his emotions tangle with his decisions towards the end of Fate Zero.

Shirou, in contrast, represents the zealous pursuit of an ideal without a care for himself, which is no doubt unsustainable and inherently more dangerous. Aside from the concerns of playing God, the concerns of Shirou’s source of humanity and sense of morality is in question when he has zero self-love. For where do these originate, and how do they stay strong as a sense of guidance, if Shirou loses himself in his relentless quest to devote himself to his ideal? This concern is more apparent here when Kiritsugu is compared with Shirou, for the former tried and his humanity surfaces in the overwhelming sense of emotion and despair that he feels. Shirou, without the benefit of years of experience, seems more like a being to fear than to love.

Conclusion

Of course, Shirou’s ideals are not exactly wrong. While Archer and Kiritsugu are not the best alternatives due to the weaknesses innate in the way they carry out their ideals, Shirou carries a more innocent, destructive outlook that may not be obvious when first confronted with his ideals. There are too many questions as too how his ideals are actually the ‘right’ ones to be pursuit, and whether it is indeed the ‘best’ set that should be followed. The Fate series does not offer a clear answer to this, and seems to prefer Shirou’s ideals (through it choosing to show Shirou in a more positive light and giving him a more hopeful ending than his predecessor, Kiritsugu). However, the unanswered questions loom for those who refuse to accept such a conclusion at face-value and who seek to discover a more convincing resolution or ‘truth’ to these questions. As such, Emiya Shirou remains but an alternate perspective, but he should never personify the ‘best’ definition of what a hero of justice is and should be.

What do you guys think? Which set of ideals do you think is the best to adopt? Or, relatedly, who do you think is the true ‘hero of justice’? Feel free to comment and leave your thoughts below 🙂

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About Me

Shiroyuni is an aniblogger that hopes to carve out her tiny piece of this virtual space we call the Internet. She has random musings (which I daresay you will find interesting) and updates her blog when she gets inspired.
She also loves random convos with people. Talk to her now! ^^